An Unexpected Love-Interest
by ouxes
Summary: So I kind of made an Elvish love-interest for Thorin because, well, he just really needed one… Just messing around really, progressing from their meeting in Rivendell in snippets through The Hobbit's original storyline.
1. Of the Stubbornness of Dwarves

An Elvish maiden lingered by the latticed pillar, watching the dwarves' progress with keen, quiet eyes. Her fair skin emitted a faintly ominous glow from where she stood in partial shadow and the pair of silver eyes glinted as they moved. Her long hair, the framing strands pinned back, was neither blonde nor brown but of an almost mousey hue that shimmered like starlight in the light evening breeze. The mysterious demeanour with which the maiden held herself gave an ethereal air of one all-knowing, all-seeing. This was the Lady Lairiel of the Moorlands, named The One Crowned with Starlight in the Sindarin tongue for her unusual mantle. Being of dual Imladris and Woodland Realm kin, she was one fused with two temperaments and thus had elected to lead the life of an outcast. She wandered between and around her homelands, oft in the company of the Rangers of the North, aiding their task of protecting those who resided in the dangerous parts of the world. She was neither here nor there, they said, but arrived when needed and disappeared without a trace. In the far south in the realms by the sea they called her a witch; in the north, a spirit. Gandalf knew her well as he had known her mother and father. Orcs and goblins, too, knew her with a murderous disposition. Only hence the five years that had passed had she found housing in the Hidden Valley of Imladris, serving as Captain of Lord Elrond's guard. Stories of her skill with a bow had passed through Middle Earth as legendary, though many that saw her did not know the tales belonged to her.

As the dwarf company set foot upon the bridge, Lord Elrond appeared at her side like a shadow. He, too, seemed to shine slightly in the weak evening light.

'You are ready?' he inquired lightly in Quenya.

Lairiel nodded once, her eyes slightly narrowed as she watched the dwarves.

'I do not understand,' she murmured. 'The halfling?'

'Of Mithrandir's choosing.'

'Of course, but why?'

'I did not inquire,' said Elrond, and she could hear a smile in his voice. 'He has his ways and reasons, it is not for me to attempt to unravel them.'

Lairiel inclined her head before turning to look up at Elrond. Though her features were a carefully honed mask of neutrality, her clear grey eyes betrayed an almost childlike faith in the man before her. He smiled as this did not go amiss.

'Go,' he instructed kindly, waving a hand at the company's retreating backs. 'I do not doubt we shall be reacquainted shortly.'

Lairiel sighed wearily.

'This shall be interesting to say the least,' she said, and inclined her head to Elrond before springing up the steps to the bridge.

Her gait was swift as she pursued Thorin's figure at the head of the party.

'Master Oakenshield!' she called, in her high, clear voice, and Thorin immediately stopped in his tracks.

The dwarves, their eyes collectively stretched wide, parted as she passed through their midst.

'And just where do you think you are going?'

Thorin's eyes looked daggers into the maiden's mild face. She raised her fair brow slightly, betraying a hint of incredulity at his upfront rudeness, however she allowed a small smile to smooth his arrogance.

'Accompanying you, of course,' she replied, with an inclination of the head.

'Why would my company require the presence of an elf?' Thorin retorted, and the hand placed on his swordhilt did not go amiss.

'Because Lord Elrond commands it,' she said patiently. 'He has requested I join your ranks for counsel and assistance where it may permit. Nothing more.'

Thorin's cold demeanour did not waver as he faced her bluntly.

'What are you called?'

'I am Lairiel of the Moorlands.' At this she bowed low and her long silver-brown locks fell over her shoulders to rest upon her breast. 'I hail from the Woodland Realm and thus Lord Elrond has bade me fitting to join your company as we shall be journeying to lands familiar to –'

'Where _we_ shall be journeying is of no business to you,' growled Thorin, his brow bristling dangerously. 'Nor to Elrond. Go back from whence you came.'

He turned his haughty shoulder upon the fair Lairiel, leaving her with her lips still parted in surprise where he had cut her sentence short. With a small sigh, she watched Thorin's fur-clad back retreating between the dwarves that parted their company for him. All their eyes had shifted from her to Thorin, and yet slowly, pair by pair, they returned to watch the maiden's expression. Some were wary and resolute, some were clearly conflicted. Her light beauty was unfamiliar to all of them and her persistent closeness put all of the dwarves on their guard; even Bilbo was acutely conscious of her presence. She was strange and fair, and her step was silent as she passed in Thorin's wake.

'I must insist,' she pressed, but her words caught in her throat as Thorin turned abruptly to glare at her. His stare was like black stone.

'No, _I_ must insist,' he said lowly. 'Your presence is unwelcome amongst my company.'

'I cannot return to Imladris –'

'Then go elsewhere.'

'Under the orders of Lord Elrond, I am to accompany you regardless.'

'My men have no use for you.'

At these words, Lairiel seemed to stand taller and more offensive than before. Her mild disposition gave in to an imposing coldness.

'And what would put you under such an impression?' she asked softly, though her clear eyes glinted like shards of ice under a weak winter sun.

'You are an elf,' Thorin retorted sharply, squaring his shoulders and standing just as tall as her. 'And a woman.'

'I am also the leader of the Guard of the Hidden Valley and the greatest marksman west of the Anduin,' she stated boldly, a fierce defiance flashing across her face. 'My eyes are keener than yours, my bearing swifter and quieter, and I can guarantee you welcome housing in any of the Elven kingdoms east. You, Thorin Oakenshield, would be a fool to refuse my aid.'

For a moment, Thorin remained silent though his jaw was visibly taught. He stared into her steely grey eyes that did not waver in the slightest, weighing his options, considering her use.

'I will hold counsel with my men,' he said finally, with unmasked reluctance, 'at the foot of the Mountain Pass. If we decide to accept your offer, I will send Kili here to collect you; if not, we will not return.'

Lairiel's eyes narrowed a mite before she inclined her head and watched the dwarves shuffle off on their way down the valley pass. A few – first Balin, then Kili, then Bofur, and finally the halfling Bilbo – looked back at where she stood still without moving.

Only when they had all but disappeared into the crevices of the rocky path did she return to Imladris. She shadowed through the familiar halls, past those heading out of doors to dine in the cool evening, up the shining staircase and out to the Counsel Pagoda where Elrond and Gandalf stood in quiet discussion.

Elrond looked up immediately and Gandalf, noticing his distraction, followed suit. By their unsurprised expressions, Lairiel knew that they had been discussing her imminent failure to join the company.

'His pride and prejudice will be his downfall,' she said immediately, a cold fire blazing in her eyes, her breast rising and falling rapidly. 'The dwarf is as stubborn as stone; I cannot fathom, Mithrandir, how you were able to suffer his arrogance from the Shire to here.'

'Calm yourself, my lady,' Elrond spoke in Quenya, raising his palms mildly.

Lairiel stopped pacing and sighed.

'Forgive me, my Lord Elrond, I know not why he has frustrated me so.'

Distress knitted her brow as she sat sadly upon a white-oak stool, her shoulders hanging dejectedly as an abomination of her fair purity.

'Thorin is a difficult man,' Gandalf agreed patiently. 'But, you must understand, he has many reasons to distrust elves. I am not saying that he is right to do so –' he added with a small smile, as she had looked up in surprise, 'but distrust them he does. I believe that with enough persistence we can persuade him to tolerate you, at the least.'

'I am not so sure I want him to,' Lairiel murmured, 'though I know I must try.'

'What was his request?' Elrond inquired.

'He told me he would hold counsel with the other dwarves at the mouth of the Mountain Pass and, if I were to be accepted, he would send one Kili to bring me, unburthened, to their camp.'

'A likely tale,' Elrond's lips turned up wryly as he surveyed Gandalf with glittering eyes. 'And a difficult dwarf indeed, Mithrandir.'

'You will accompany me, Lady Lairiel,' Gandalf instructed wearily. 'We will follow from a distance and rejoin the party when time deems it fitting. Then, we will attempt to get some sense into Thorin.'

'I believe it is a task in vain,' said Lairiel, though she smiled as she looked up into Gandalf's exasperated face. 'However, it cannot be left undone.'

'No, it cannot,' Elrond agreed immediately. 'He was fully aware of your intentions?'

'Completely,' Lairiel replied. 'I told him explicitly why I was sent and – and he said I was of no use because I am an elf, and a woman.'

'Words of a blinded fool,' said Elrond quickly, but gently. His cool hand touched her cheek, light as a down-feather yet unwavering, as his piercing eyes looked deep into her swimming ones. 'Do not be swayed by petty insults, my lady. Let your proficiency in talents not be marred by the arrogance of a dwarf-prince; you are still the finest warrior in my Guard.'

A single tear fell and shattered like a diamond upon her lap, though she smiled wetly.

'Thank you for your words of kindness, my Lord,' she said, and her voice was surprisingly steady. 'I am being foolish. I will go with Mithrandir at first light and send word of our progress as soon as I am able. I will not fail you.'

'_Alámenë, Lairiel_.' Elrond raised a hand in farewell.

Lairiel bowed low, first to Elrond and then to Gandalf, to whom she said, 'Til the morn', before retreating through the final rays of the setting sun into the halls of the Last Homely House.


	2. Redemption, Perchance?

Jump to when Thorin's company is sleeping in the cave in the Misty Mountains and are kidnapped by goblins. By this time, Lairiel and Gandalf had rejoined the company somewhere along the Mountain Pass, much to the dismay of Thorin (he had refused to speak to either the Elf or the Wizard). Kili, of course, was not sent back to Rivendell to collect her.

* * *

A great loud shriek snapped Lairiel's eyes wide open. _Goblins_. Six to each dwarf came scuffling through the dark; the thought of unsheathing her sword had no sooner entered her mind when a pack of them were at her feet, gnashing their foul teeth and clicking their ragged black nails. Before they could all but touch her, a flash like lightning erupted in the cave and the goblins before her all dropped dead to the ground. A strong arm had her around the waist, pulled her along the floor and –

Silence. The crack in the rock had closed, concealing all the goblins, the dwarves and Bilbo behind it. Gandalf was already on his feet beside her.

'Mithrandir, we must hurry!' Lairiel cried immediately, unsheathing _Alverior_ where it glittered in the dark.

'And go where?' he inquired with a raised eyebrow. 'Waiting is what we must do: we shall linger here a moment until the quarry has moved along, then we pursue unnoticed.'

'But from where did they come? I was only roused by the halfling's cry.'

'As was I,' nodded Gandalf gravely. 'And good thing, too. It appears a secret passage opens here and we had the misfortune of choosing to camp at its mouth. How unlucky.'

'Indeed. And you will use your staff, no doubt?'

'That is correct.'

'Thank you for sparing me,' said Lairiel fervently, looking up at him in the dark. 'You may well have saved my life.'

'Let us hope, for the sake of our friends, that I only saved you from some discomfort. Come!'

Gandalf thrust the point of his staff at the stone where it cracked in two and parted to reveal a long, dark passage trailing off into the gloom. The air was foul and caused a great foreboding to weigh on Lairiel's heart. Elves as a rule do not bode well with being underground. But she squared her shoulders and gripped her sword before leading the way into the passage.

They moved swiftly and silently, Gandalf with _Glamdring_ in one hand and his staff in the other, down the dank passage until the sound of harsh goblin voices reached their ears. Some had clearly been sent back to check nothing had been lost in the darkness of the tunnel.

Lairiel raised her hand to warn Gandalf to halt before stepping closer, pressed against the rock wall, waiting for the moment to strike. _Alverior_ tingled in her hand as she ran it through the neck of one goblin before swinging it around to cut off the other's head. Her strokes were so swift and noiseless that the goblins were felled before either could properly realise what was going on.

'Come!' she hissed to Gandalf, but he was already hurrying along beside her.

The orange glow of firelight penetrated the dark until they were forced to stop to remain concealed.

'It is as I feared,' Gandalf murmured. 'We have stumbled upon the lair of the Great Goblin.'

'Down there I see the guards who hold the dwarves' weapons,' said Lairiel, ducking back down after peering around to where the passage opened up into the Great Goblin's cavern. 'I can fell them without any others noticing.'

'Not yet,' said Gandalf thoughtfully. 'No, this requires precision. When I step out I will snuff all the fires in the cavern. In that split second you must slit the throats of the goblins and take back the weapons and then we shall rescue our friends.'

Lairiel nodded once and it was done cleanly and smoothly. All the lights went out and all the goblins started yammering and shrieking in a great blind chaos. Lairiel's sword silenced the guard and she took the weapons which she handed to Gandalf. Then, she sheathed her own sword.

'Tell me when,' Gandalf murmured from beside her, his voice barely distinguishable through the cacophony of goblin curses echoing around them.

Lairiel unslung her bow and pulled an arrow taught to eye-level. Her arm was steady.

'Now!'

Suddenly, a bright blue light blazed through the cavern; in a split second, Lairiel's arrow had found its mark and was fired.

Thorin's awe-filled eyes watched it travel across the cavern and straight through the Great Goblin's neck. He fell dead, and the goblin soldiers fled shrieking into the darkness. Then, the light was snuffed and blackness descended once more.

Lairiel leapt from the eagle's back before its talons had touched the stone below. Despite its height, she landed lightly and gave no pause for hesitation before bowing low to the great bird.

'My thanks to you, noble comrade,' she said, addressing the eagle in the appropriate fashion. 'May clear skies fare thee well in future times.'

While Gandalf conversed with the Lord of the Eagles, the dwarves prepared a fire and awaited hares two eagles had departed to collect. Lairiel's eyes fell upon where Thorin sat watching the progress of his kin, with Balin at his side. He was staring at the growing pile of dry boughs being heaped by Fili and Kili as though lost in thought; in truth, he was recalling the sight of the fair Elf maiden standing bold and bright among a sprawling sea of those foul goblins, a white-elm bow held steady in her hands as she struck the death-blow upon his captor and freed them all.

Suddenly, he looked up to see her standing there before him wearing an expression of mild neutrality.

'You bear a wound, Master Oakenshield,' she noted, gesturing to the gash he had received from a goblin's flying arrow into the side of his large hand.

'It is but a scratch,' he said lowly, turning his hand so that the cut was concealed. 'No hindrance to me.'

'I can tend to it, if you wish,' she offered lightly. 'Clean the wound and such; I am no great healer like Lord Elrond yet I have some ability.'

'Thank you,' he said pointedly, 'but it will not be necessary.'

He did not know why he was refusing her aid when but a moment ago he had been considering tearing a bandage from the hem of his undershirt.

'I believe it would be for the best,' she persisted, with a slightly harder note to her tone.

Thorin looked up at her with irritation colouring his face, but then he recalled the image of her felling the Great Goblin and his exasperation faltered.

'As you wish,' he conceded, and got to his feet.

She lead him across the eyrie to its sheer edge, away from the happenings of the others.

'Moonlight is an important key to healing,' she explained, turning to face him with a smile.

Her silver-brown hair shimmered under the light of the moon and stars, her pale skin appeared to smoulder gently and her silver eyes glittered as she smiled. Thorin, looking all the worse for wear after their debacle in the burning trees, felt shamed by her purity. She moved with such grace against his lumbering gait that when she knelt upon the stone ground, he was wary to sit as far from the edge of the cliff as possible. Despite all that she had done for the good of his company, Thorin was still mistrustful of the Elf and eyed her movements closely.

Lairiel took a pouch of water from inside her cloak as well as a silken cloth. His big hand seemed calloused and clumsy in her two slender ones, though now that he looked Thorin noticed scratches and cuts abhorring her clear skin. Her touch was surprisingly gentle as she cleaned the wound with the wetted cloth. He watched her face as she worked, his gaze probing the fair, placid air that hung like a mantle about her person. He was determined not to be affected by it, not to fall under her spell; he had to stay on his guard at all times.

She worked in silence, binding the clean wound in another silken wrapping.

'The bandage is of Elf make, and thus will not tear,' she told him quietly, as she tied the knot and let go of his hand. 'It is woven with silk and thyme so the wound ought to heal cleanly and quickly.'

'Thank you,' Thorin murmured, surveying her handiwork, and he surprised himself by feeling deeply grateful. 'Why did you enter the goblins' cavern after us?' he asked suddenly, looking at her through the darkness. 'It was a risk to your life.'

'I swore to protect you,' Lairiel answered simply, stowing the water pouch back inside her cloak. 'And I told you from the beginning that you would, at some point, require my assistance; though it was needed sooner than anticipated, to speak in all truth.'

'Indeed,' Thorin agreed in his deep growl. 'Well, I am grateful,' he said gruffly.

Lairiel smiled broadly at his humble honesty.

'Then you are most welcome, Master Oakenshield,' she said, with a bow of her head, before getting lithely to her feet. 'The eagles are almost here,' she told him in an invitation to rejoin to rest of the company.

He watched her move away with that eerily silent step that had become so characteristic of her, feeling a conflict of gratitude and doubt growing inside his mind.


	3. Confessions in the Dark

Now the company have left the safety of Beorn's house and have said their farewells to Gandalf who, as we know, travelled south to investigate the Necromancer at Dol-Guldur. The Lady Lairiel fears for the dwarves' safety and speaks out a plan that has been growing in her mind. It is the eve of their entering the forest of Mirkwood.

* * *

'Now that Mithrandir has left us, I believe we are facing a treacherous journey,' Lairiel announced to the collective company. All fell silent to listen to her words. 'Mirkwood bodes as an evil shadow in my mind, full of many perils I fear we are yet to imagine. We may well come upon our most deadly defiler among these trees. As we no longer have the protection and guidance of the Wizard, I shall make a proposition to you all.' Her eyes sought out Thorin's in the crowd. 'My kin reside in the Woodland Realm on the other side of Mirkwood. If you would deem it wisest, I could journey by a different path swifter under my own stead to request guidance from them. I am sure they would oblige me.'

Thorin's face immediately hardened – he was not one to go looking for aid from Elves, especially the very clan who had abandoned his people all those years ago. But his gaze moved from Lairiel's expectant face to the dark, foreboding wall of trees, and then to the nervous faces of his comrades.

'Do you know the paths of Mirkwood?' he asked Lairiel finally, eyeing her with scrutiny.

'Not well,' she admitted. 'Long has it been since I have walked this trail. Even my people from the Woodland Realm avoid it where possible. Dangers lurk in every shadow, enchanted streams and hypnotising spells have been placed to lure travellers to an evil fate. Elves are able to pass unhindered by their own subtle magic; as for dwarves and halflings, I cannot say. If I were to journey ahead through the trees, I could reach the Elvenking Thranduil's halls ere the morn of the day after next. I am not hindered by the need to eat or sleep as you are.'

'I think it would be wise to send the lady ahead,' piped up Bilbo from somewhere at the back of the company, his little voice quaking slightly.

'Aye,' agreed Glóin, stepping forward. 'Guidance and protection would be welcome prospects once we're in the woods.'

'Aye,' agreed some of the dwarves, nodding to one another.

Thorin looked from his anxious party to Lairiel again with a hint of trepidation in his own eyes.

'You will be safe?' he asked her lowly. 'You will not become lost?'

'I will be safer than all of you, I am afraid,' she replied grimly, 'and much less likely to become lost.'

'And what of this Elvenking?' Thorin persisted. 'How do we know we can trust him?'

'He is my uncle,' Lairiel told him with a smile, to the general surprise of the dwarves. 'He will trust my judgement, I am sure of it. I have not looked upon his house in many years.'

'Then you will go ahead,' he said, inclining his head with some reluctance.

'At dawn I shall depart,' said Lairiel, looking to the darkening sky thoughtfully. 'For now, we all should rest.'

Lairiel's steps were as light as falling leaves. Not a rustle, not a sound stirred her slumbering comrades as she moved between their beds. Her eye glided over each and every one of their vacant faces, searching for consciousness where there was none; her progress would go unnoticed. Her robe whispered over the mossy floor as she passed Thorin's crown and only when she had her back to him did he dare look up. A strange feeling surged into his heart as he watched the woman leave the camp, moving slowly and silently as he had never seen another move before; she was mysterious and dangerous, and yet, despite the warning in his heart, Thorin was unable to stop himself from rising.

From a distance, he followed her through the dark, keeping hidden behind the foremost trees of the forest should she hear movement or turn around. His face was full of wonder, his eyes divulging a desire to uncover her secrets. Where was she going? And what was this odd silvery light that seemed to emanate from her very being as she walked through the darkest of trees?

His first question was answered as the sound of running water reached his ears. There, dappled in soft moonlight that glittered off its facets, was a small crystalline waterfall that cascaded into the only clearing in the forest: the ancient heart of the Greenwood itself. Though the trees of the Greenwood had become fouled by an evil presence and thus had been fitted with the more appropriate name of Mirkwood, this heart, almost as old as time itself, had resisted the toxins that had permeated the air. It no longer resided in the middle of the wood as the shape of the forest had changed since its first years; though, due to the density of the trees, if one did not know it was there he could pass by within twenty feet of it unawares. Its water flowed clear and cold as ever it had done. The tinkling water put a spell upon Thorin and he fell to his knees on the mossy ground, his big hands gripping the trunk of the tree behind which he hid. Lairiel's skin smouldered white as her shoulders were revealed and the contours of her back caressed by moonlight. She undressed, her robe falling silently onto the moss, before stepping into the circular pool. Her pure beauty was like none other Thorin had ever laid eyes upon; she was more precious than the most coveted stone, more virginal than the deepest buried crystal. A longing filled his heart like he had not felt since the days of his mining when deluges of gems were at his fingertips.

His eyes drank her naked figure, sweet as honeyed wine. Water fell over her shoulders, ran through her hair and pooled in the nape of her neck. He watched her close her eyes with quiet rapture.

'Why do you crouch in the dark, Thorin Oakenshield?'

Her voice, though soft, rang out in the dark. Thorin's breath caught in his throat as her eyes opened to glitter a smile at him.

'Is it that you are afraid?' she pondered, as little streams of water snaked down her bare chest. 'Or perhaps ashamed of looking upon a she-elf with such eyes?'

'I have no shame,' he replied, standing and moving boldly into the open. 'I am, however, afraid. I do not understand this feeling.'

Lairiel smiled in full this time and lifted her long-fingered hand to him. Without seeming to think about his actions, Thorin's feet moved him forward into the moonlit circle to her until the spray from the waterfall clung to his eyelashes.

'Do not be afraid,' she murmured, and her cool hand touched his cheek.

Thorin closed his eyes at her touch, his heart pounding in his chest. She could feel the rapid pulse through his skin.

'You have nothing to fear.'

Her words whispered over his face and he opened his eyes to see her silver ones shining mere inches from his own. Their promise smoothed his brow and soothed his anxious spirit. An intense feeling of ease calmed Thorin's mind and yet he was still reluctant to touch her despite how he longed to. She was too precious, too ethereal for his large calloused hands. Lairiel read the hesitation in his face and pressed her other hand to the centre of his chest. His shirt front had become drenched and clung to his skin, revealing every contour of his muscular torso. He looked down at where her hand covered his heart.

'You have a big heart,' she told him softly, 'but it has become heavy with sorrow and much conflict. I wish for you to be at peace within yourself. That is why I have come.'

'You came – for me?'

His eyes found hers again, searching for an answer in surprise. Her sweet lips turned up in another smile.

'You did not realise? You cannot complete your quest without my help; when I heard of what you planned to do from Lord Elrond, I knew I had no choice. I alone have the power to see you succeed.'

'I thought you desired gold,' Thorin muttered, 'or protection until the Woodland Realm.'

'When I only desired to see your burdens lifted.'

Her fingertips whispered over the droplets on his brow and courage swelled inside him. Thorin's large hands clasped her supple waist as he pulled her gently against his body. She seemed as fragile as glass under his touch, and yet as impenetrable as _mithril_. Water from the fall streamed down his neck as she led him into the silver pool. Her eyes did not leave his, grey upon blue, as her fingers traced down his temple to lightly twist a lock of hair from his face.

'Do not be afraid,' she breathed again, and yet something in her own face betrayed a hidden fear.

Her gaze fell to his lips as Thorin's large hand cupped her cheek. His strong fingers trembled under her skin; her hair soon stuck to his knuckles.

'Fate has never graced me with a more precious beauty,' he told her softly. 'You dim the light of all gems and stones in this world.'

'Your tongue has run away with you.'

Lairiel's voice was no longer so calm; it shook slightly in trepidation, and in desire. Never had a man touched her so nor held her so close. The cool water sent goosepimples blooming up her arms.

'I do not dare to ask more of my lady,' he said, and his gaze, too, dropped; as did his hands. 'A better man may be with you. I, however, am too humble to be so blessed.'

'You doubt your worth, Thorin Oakenshield.' Lairiel's smile returned as she lifted his chin. His blue eyes wavered as though he were staring into the sun. 'You are a mightier man than ever I have met in all my years walking this earth.'

And her soft lips found his in the lightest of kisses. Thorin's body became paralysed by her spell and when the touch of her lips was gone he opened his eyes to find himself standing alone.


	4. A Reunion (ft Legolas)

The maiden Lairiel comes to Elvenking Thranduil's house as anticipated, utilising her Elvish light as a beacon to guide her by a safe passage through the darkness of Mirkwood. There, however, a familiar face she did not anticipate greets her on the threshold of the Woodland Realm...

* * *

'Legolas!'

The joyful cry rung like bells in echoes around the hall as every eye turned to watch the fair Lairiel dance across the floor with heart-shattering grace. The elf-prince Legolas' arms were outstretched to take her embrace. His eyes alighted with wonder at her sudden presence. He lifted her off her feet to the shock of all civil observers.

'Lairiel, my love!' he exclaimed. 'Your sudden appearance in our halls has become increasingly scarce of late, you are all but estranged to me!'

'Do not speak such words,' she laughed, her eyes glittering as she drank in his merry face. 'Though the lands may part us you are forever in my thoughts.'

'Your marksmanship has become legendary,' he commended, taking her hand to lead her towards the head of the hall. 'Tales have reached even these lands from Imladris. You must show me some of your skill. Father speaks so amiably of you.'

'And yet you were always a match for me in our youth.'

Legolas smiled, his eyes sparkling with joy, before he stepped aside to allow his father, who sat upon his high throne, to greet their guest.

'My Lord, my uncle Thranduil,' Lairiel spoke in Sindarin, bowing deeply. '_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn_. A star shines over the time of our meeting.'

'_Na vedui_,' said Thranduil, in his light yet uncannily sharp voice. 'At last. You are welcome here, my Lairiel of the Moorlands. It has been long since you have graced my halls with your presence.'

'Much has been happening in the world of late,' she smiled. 'Yet I shall make a point of frequenting your hearth from hereon in.'

'Good,' he said, and he walked slowly down the steps of the raised dais to clasp her face in his long-fingered hands. 'Legolas especially laments your absence.'

Lairiel's eyes found Legolas' from where he stood beside his father's throne. His eyes glittered and though he did not blush, a faint pink hue coloured his high cheekbones.

'I have come here with tidings and a request for aid,' said Lairiel now back to Thranduil.

He lowered his hands and looked down at her curiously.

'Let us sit and have counsel,' he offered. 'Calanon, prepare a room for our guest to tide her over ere the banquet feast.'

An elf who stood clad in simple pale green bowed low at the command and exited through a pillared doorway.

'Come,' instructed Thranduil. 'And you, Legolas, may join us.'

Lairiel's feet followed the familiar paths of her youth down hallways and passages leading to the king's meeting hall. Legolas walked silently beside her and, for some reason, his presence lightened her heart immeasurably.

'You have travelled far from Imladris, my child,' said Thranduil, seating himself at the head of the long oaken table in an elaborately carved chair. Legolas sat at his right hand and Lairiel, after a gesture from the king, settled at his left. 'On an errand from Lord Elrond, I expect?'

'Not quite, my lord,' she replied, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. 'I am indeed under instruction from Lord Elrond, however he himself does not require aid. I am travelling with a host of dwarves headed by Thorin Oakenshield on a quest to the Lonely Mountain.'

At these words, Thranduil's eyes alighted with surprise. He watched her intently as she continued.

'The dwarves are a party of fourteen, with one young halfling from the west included,' she said. 'They carry Lord Elrond's blessing. Mithrandir has been travelling as our guide however he has departed on an errand of his own and now we are, regrettably, alone. The party must pass through the perils of Mirkwood to reach their destination yet it is extremely treacherous and I fear for their safety. I offered to travel ahead under my own will to request aid from the house of my kin.'

'What is Thorin Oakenshield's business in journeying to the Lonely Mountain?' Thranduil asked mildly, though he did not fully conceal his inherent interest.

Lairiel opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure as to how much she ought to convey. She did not quite trust the glint in the king's eye though the dwarves did need his help.

'I do not know,' she said finally, looking at her hands. 'He has not trusted me enough to say, yet perhaps Lord Elrond is privy as it was he who bade me accompany them. Thorin is mistrustful of elves in general.'

'I am aware of this.'

Lairiel's eyes flicked up to Legolas' and back at Thranduil's suddenly cold tone.

'It has taken many long and arduous efforts to sway Thorin into allowing my accompaniment, however Mithrandir and I have achieved it,' she continued, as though there had been no change in conversation. 'He still does not trust me completely – though, if I may, I think it would be wise to send guides to Thorin and his company. Friendship between elves and dwarves is, I believe, crucial at this point in time. I myself have attempted to forge at least a comradeship between us, but an offering of aid and even housing from an entire Elvish kingdom would be taken as an offering of friendship to the dwarfish people. Thorin is a high prince of the line of Durin, and thus has much influence –'

'I am also aware of this,' Thranduil repeated impatiently, and Lairiel's parted lips slowly closed.

His eyes left her face to gaze absently across the room in thought.

'I will send a party to find Thorin Oakenshield and his company,' he said finally, and Lairiel's heart leapt in relief. 'Mirkwood is indeed perilous and, if he carries Elrond's blessing, the dwarf is welcome in my halls. You, my star, have journeyed far. Retire to your quarters, wash, sleep, do as you wish. A welcoming feast will be held at sunset in your honour.'

'I thank you, my lord,' said Lairiel heartily, and she stood to bow low. 'The dwarves will forever remember your compassion and kindness; I, however, was already aware of these virtues in you.'

He smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes which remained steely and watchful. They lingered upon her as she took her leave and left the meeting hall.


	5. Traitor Unmasked

The door was thrust wide as Lairiel strode into the room. Her eyes flashed with white fury, her silver hair flew behind her as she marched up to the king's throne. Thranduil sat watching her progress with a mild expression. He was not surprised.

'Let them go,' Lairiel commanded in a low, unsteady voice.

Her nostrils flared in anger as she stared up into Thranduil's pale face. He smiled slightly.

'And what reason would compel me to do so?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'For what should I allow Thorin Oakenshield and his company, trespassers upon my lands, to pass unhindered into a realm they are not welcome?'

'It is not for you to decide!' Lairiel cried, throwing up her hands in distress. 'I beseech you to see reason, see sense! They come with Lord Elrond's blessing, I told you this. They were never trespassing upon your lands, they came seeking refuge and counsel. If any that trod unknowingly within your realm were a trespasser then that would make me one.'

For a moment, Lairiel's breath caught in her throat as the thought of imprisoning her flickered through Thranduil's mind. He looked at her with his head tilted slightly to one side.

'You ought to depart from this corner of the world, Lairiel,' he said finally, though there was no threat in the instruction. 'These dwarves and their passage is no concern of yours. Return to Imladris.'

'Lord Elrond has instructed me otherwise, and it is to him that I hold dominant allegiance. Free the dwarves, they have done no wrong by you!'

'That remains to be seen,' said Thranduil softly, his eyes again seeing past her into his own musings.

'I cannot allow you to so unjustly imprison this party,' said Lairiel firmly, taking a deep breath before looking up into his face.

'And what would you do to stop me?' Thranduil's voice suddenly rang out sharp. It echoed around the hall yet Lairiel remained unfazed.

'Lord Elrond must be notified at once of your betrayal –'

'That I cannot allow. Guards!'

Lairiel gasped as Thranduil's raised hand commanded her detention. He looked down at her grieving face as his men clasped her wrists to hold behind her back.

'Father!' Legolas cried, stepping forward from his post.

'You do not attempt to resist?' Thranduil whispered incredulously, watching Lairiel's limp compliance.

'I would never fight you,' she smiled sadly. 'You are my kin, Thranduil, and I would never wish any harm upon you or your house.'

'Father, release her, I beg you!' Legolas was watching in horror, his beautiful face alighted by disbelieving despair; an abomination of his fair demeanour.

'Release her,' Thranduil commanded suddenly, and the guards obeyed at once. 'You will not defy my wish?' he asked Lairiel directly.

'_Û,__hîr vuin_,' she replied, shaking her head sadly. 'No, my lord.'

'Return to your quarters and remain there,' he said, settling back into his throne. 'I will collect you when your presence is required.'

She obeyed silently and turned to retreat, hearing Legolas' light footfalls approaching from behind. They walked without speaking until they entered her room, where Lairiel sat upon the bed and Legolas closed the door.

'_Áva sorya_,' he said immediately, kneeling at her feet and clasping her long-fingered hands in his. 'Do not despair. This is yet to be righted, my love, do not despair so soon.'

'I am in disbelief,' she whispered, looking up into his soft blue eyes. 'How your father could betray me so; and after the first counsel, he gave his word to aid them!'

Legolas did not speak. He daren't say a word against his father though his silence conveyed his disapproval. The back of his fingers brushed down her cheek.

'It pains me to see you like this,' he murmured. '_An ngell nîn, tolo ar nin, gwaem_, come with me.'

He pulled lightly at her hand as he got to his feet. Confusion flitted across Lairiel's face.

'Where?'

'To the river. Its flow will help to ease your mind.'

'But your father –'

'He will understand.'

* * *

The flickering light from the torch brackets threw slanted, menacing shadows across the walls as Lairiel moved, swift and silent, down through the hallways to the dungeons below. Her bare feet made no sound on the cool stone floor; she was careful to pass unnoticed. Her gait was quick as she had limited moments to spare without rousing attention from the banquet party.

Suddenly, merry laughter met her ears travelling down from the other end of the passage. Lairiel darted aside through the nearest open doorway, slipping around the corner to wait for a pair of young elves to pass. Guards, perhaps, heading to the banquet? She could not be sure, and did not have time to ponder more.

At the foot of the staircase stretched a line of doors with thin rectangular peep-holes in their faces: the cells of the dwarves. Thorin, surely, would be housed in the first one nearest the stairs. She dashed to the door and, with her palms pressed against the smooth wood, peered inside.

As soon as she saw Thorin's figure sitting on the wooden bench against the wall, she was seized by a sudden desire to smile. His fur cloak was folded at his side and he sat staring blankly at the floor, clearly deep in thought. He wore only his white cotton shirt.

'Thorin!' Lairiel whispered, and his gaze snapped up immediately.

'You!' he growled, getting to his feet to glare in total disgust at her. 'How dare you come here to mock me and my comrades! What is it you want from me, traitor?'

'I am no traitor,' she replied in a hurried murmur. 'I give you my word, Thranduil played traitor to me.'

'Spare me,' Thorin spat, hatred written all over his face. 'I do not need your grovelling excuses.'

'I did not come here to beg for a forgiveness I do no require,' said Lairiel, attempting patience yet failing slightly. 'It is true that I trusted Thranduil too much and was proven the fool by his betrayal, that I will shoulder, but he swore to me he was sending a party to guide you out of the forest to safety. I told him nothing of your purposes in travelling to the Lonely Mountain – though I expect he himself may question you for the matter interests him deeply.' Thorin opened his mouth to speak but Lairiel cut across him quickly. 'I have come here to offer my help once more; I can find a way for you and the others to escape.'

Thorin's eyes bored into hers, searching out lies where there were none. His expression remained cold and hard.

'I give you my word,' she repeated in a desperate whisper. 'He even came near to imprisoning me when I defied him after he arrested you.'

'The halfling roams freely through these halls,' Thorin said finally, his gaze softening as he approached the door from inside the cell. 'He has gone unnoticed by your kin.'

'Then I must find him,' she said firmly. 'Together we will see you free. I swear to you.'

Thorin nodded once in acknowledgement and Lairiel's heart was eased by his trust.

'I must go,' she said quickly, unable to fight a small smile, 'or my absence may be noticed. I will return when I can after finding Bilbo.'

She turned to go but Thorin spoke.

'Lairiel, wait,' he said heavily, and looking back she saw him standing right up to the slot of the peep-hole. His expression was oddly hesitant and nervous, though there was resolution in his eyes. 'In the forest by the pool –'

'Thorin,' Lairiel smiled, silencing his words. 'That was just a dream.'

She looked at him for a moment, smiling a strange smile, before he watched her disappear up the spiral staircase without another word.


	6. An Unexpected Parting

'Lairiel!' Thorin called, holding out his large hand with expectation blazing in his face, yet Lairiel did not move.

'I am sorry,' she said heavily, watching his eyes widen, 'but I am to remain here.'

Thorin lowered his hand, weighed by defeat and disbelief.

'Why?' he asked.

'A battle is coming, I can feel it building in the air,' she said quietly. 'I fear for you and the others. In time, the elves will be needed to join this tale and I must be here to see that happen. I am the only one who can persuade King Thranduil to send a force to Erebor should ill fate befall your company.'

'You cannot persuade him to see sense,' Thorin said, but the bitterness intended for his tone was lost in grief at their unexpected parting.

'Perhaps not I, but his son is on our side,' she smiled. 'Legolas will bide with me until the end, I am sure of it. Do not despair,' she said softly, and moved forward to touch his cheek, her fingers light and cool. 'We will meet again soon enough.'

At her touch, a look of wonder entered Thorin's eyes and he looked deeply into hers.

'It was not a dream,' he said lowly, his gaze flicking between her two eyes. 'It was real.'

Lairiel just smiled and inclined her crowned head to whisper a kiss upon his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

'From the stars above, I wish you all the luck in this world and beyond,' she told him, and her fingers left his face as she stepped back from him. 'Go, Thorin Oakenshield, and fulfil your destiny. Help will come from the elves when it is needed, you have my word.'

Thorin bowed to her and stole one final glance of longing before turning and walking down to where the rest of the dwarves held company. When he looked back again a moment later, she was gone.


	7. The Fall of Kíli the Dwarf

Now the Battle of Five Armies is to ensue. With Legolas' help, Lairiel managed to persuade the Elvenking to send a force to Erebor - although he had always intended to fight there for a portion of the treasure himself. Lairiel left the Elvenking's party to join Thorin's company inside the mountain, but she has a plan that one Kíli alone can help her fulfil.

* * *

'Kíli!' Lairiel hissed, and the young dwarf turned in surprise. 'Come with me.'

He followed her curiously, unslinging his bow to hold at the ready.

'Oughtn't we stay with Thorin and the others?' he asked, hurrying to keep up with her nimble steps over the uneven stone.

'What faces us now is beyond the preference of kinsmen,' said Lairiel darkly. 'We must fight for the good of all honest folk against these foul black biters. You have a keen eye and a steady hand,' she commended. 'You and I shall climb the Southern slope to gain higher ground; when Thorin and the others emerge, we shall be able to fell the threat with arrows from above.'

'Good idea!' said Kíli, and she could not resist a look of petulance by the surprise in his voice.

They climbed the unstable slope, Kíli a little slower than the sprightly Elf, until the pair of them crouched half-concealed over the great stone doorway. To their far left were Bard and a few of the nimbler men and elves who had climbed the Eastern slope for a better view of the oncoming battalion. Lairiel, with her sharp eyes, could make out what appeared to be an evil black tide flowing rapidly down from the distant mountains.

'This will be a terrible battle,' she murmured lowly to Kíli, her eyes on the horizon.

'You can see them, can't you?' he asked, dread weighing heavily on his voice.

She merely nodded, crouching back down over the arch.

'I fear for the halfling,' she admitted.

'Perhaps he can keep himself out of sight,' said Kíli wryly. 'He is uncannily good at that.'

'Yes,' Lairiel agreed with a small laugh. 'Even better than I. The Elvenking seemed to have no idea of Bilbo's existence at all, even when he was moving about his halls all that time. How he can creep so quietly I am yet to know.'

'I believe he is able to do magic,' Kíli divulged in a low voice.

Lairiel smiled. It amazed Kíli at that moment how even in the darkest of times, the Elf was able to laugh and smile honestly. It gave him courage.

'Perhaps he can,' she allowed.

'Speaking of magic,' said Kíli thoughtfully, settling down on the rock more comfortably. 'Where is Gandalf in all this?'

'He will return,' said Lairiel immediately, and her conviction caught him off guard. 'He always does, when our need is most desperate.'

'How can you know for sure?'

'It happens every time,' she shrugged. 'And I can feel his presence approaching. He carries a strong aura, that wizard.'

'You are very strange,' said Kíli, narrowing his eyes at her, but she only laughed louder and more freely than she had done since they had arrived there.

'And you are very honest,' she replied, with amusement twinkling in her eyes. 'Though I must ask, why did you volunteer to partake in such a dangerous quest? You are so young and with your whole life before you, yet you choose to risk it so brashly.'

'Thorin is my uncle,' said Kíli simply, tapping his arrow against his shoe, 'and Fíli my brother. I could not abandon my kin in times of trouble.'

Lairiel inclined her head in acceptance though she did not entirely approve. She would have to ask Thorin why he did not prevent the young lad from journeying with them all.

Suddenly, a call to arms blared out across the mountain slopes.

'The _yrch_ are approaching!' Lairiel said sharply, getting to her feet though keeping her back bent.

'The what? Oh.'

Kíli's question was answered for him as he saw the hoard of what must have been hundreds of black orcs spilling down towards the mountain. Lairiel's heart leapt at the sight, and she drew an arrow to slide into place at the ready.

'There!' muttered Kíli, and Lairiel looked around to see him pointing at the farthest great stone pillar of the front gate. It had been shattered long ago and weather-beaten down to a smooth round surface seven feet above the hillside, thirty feet above the river. 'Perfect for scouting!'

'Be careful, and stay low,' Lairiel warned. 'The filth will spot you soon enough out there.'

Kíli nodded resolutely and, as a gesture of good luck, clapped the Elf on the shoulder with a bright smile. Lairiel was taken by surprise at this, but quickly smiled widely herself, clasping his arm before they parted.

* * *

Lairiel's feet skipped over the slate as she was pushed back by the hoards of goblins that swamped the foot of the slope. Kíli's arm was all but a blur as he fired arrow after arrow from his vantage point atop the broken pillar. With a thrill of terror, Lairiel saw a particularly grotesque goblin take aim with a dart at Kíli from behind. She shot an arrow into his neck before he could release his own, but then her attention was retracted back to Thorin as she saw him swinging his sword at the great host of orcs attacking him. She fired at the onslaught, felling goblins without their noticing, and Thorin looked over his shoulder to flash a knowing smile upon realising she was there. She couldn't help but smile, too, as she aided him in his battle.

A blood-curdling yell caused her smile to dissolve into a grimace of horror as she saw Kíli clutching his chest, out of which a black arrow was stuck.

'Kíli!' she cried, unsheathing her sword and leaping off the rock into the sea of goblins below.

_Alverior_ glittered as it let orc-blood flow; the goblins squealed and retreated from the sight of such a fair Elvish blade, but not quickly enough to escape its bite. The Elf was ruthless in her desperation to reach Kíli, where he staggered upon the pillar, his red blood seeping down from the wound. He had become unfocussed and unsteady and the orcs were rapidly gaining higher ground. She had to reach him to be able to defend him in time, otherwise the orcs would surely be the death of him. Her face blazed with ferocity as goblins fell around her and the ones pushing forward began to back away in fear.

'Kíli!' she called again. 'Hold on, I am coming, just hold on! _N__îdh!_'

She staggered back as a biting blade slashed across her arm; a goblin bared his pointed yellow teeth at her, her crimson blood dripping from his knife, and she stabbed _Alverior_ right between his wretched eyes. She pressed on but could not move quickly enough. The assault of black was stagnating, slowing her down, forcing her back… Lairiel gritted her teeth and ran three through upon her blade before slicing up and out to swing around and slash across a pair of twisted faces, across a throat and through a neck, jabbing and running and slicing again.

When another, this time lower and harsher yell came from Kíli, her eyes filled with tears. A jagged black sword was now protruding from his chest, having been thrown from an orc below the pillar. In an instant, the young dwarf fell back with a heavy thud onto the stones seven feet below.

'No!' Lairiel whispered, tears blurring her vision as she stared at the place where he fell in complete disbelief.

Her eyes had cheated her, surely. Her heart could not be clouded by this darkness.

'No!' she cried, lunging forward to kill all in her path. 'No, no, Kíli, _nai_, _echuio, __odulen an edraith angin_, wake up, I am here to save you!'

She spoke in Elvish without even realising it, but when the wall of black was parted she fell to her knees in a cascade of stones beside Kíli's chest. The sword was thrust in deeply, as was the arrow; his whole body was convulsing with juddering breaths but his wide eyes were staring into another world, another space of being.

Tears mingled with the blood on Lairiel's face as she frantically searched for something to do or a way to save him, but it was soon clear there was nothing that could be done. At this arduous realisation, the Elf pressed her hand against his hot brow. His breath was becoming sharper and less frequent – his last desperate gasps of life.

'Be released from pain, my friend,' she told him softly, her shoulders trembling in the most lamentable spectacle of grief. '_Guren níniatha n'i l__û__ n'i a-govenitham_,' she whispered, clear tears splashing into his hair. 'My heart shall weep until I see you again.'

Kíli's eyes were unseeing as his body became still. Lairiel's hand, that was rested upon his unwounded shoulder, clasped into a terrible grip, her fingernails cutting into her palm and drawing beads of blood. Her heart weighed heavier with grief that was familiar, and yet fresh and raw and more painful than any flesh wound she could bear.

'_Losto vae, henig_,' she moaned grievously, as her fingers closed his eyes. 'Sleep well, my child.'


	8. The King Under the Mountain Departs

And so we reach the end of our tale at the closure of battle and the departing of the King Under the Mountain. I'm sorry it ended up being a pretty sad story all along, I didn't mean for it to be, but I hope you have enjoyed it nonetheless. Cheers for reading.

*Credit for the ode comes from reading-room/poetry/nin-meleth-my-love-sindarin-love-poem, see there for translation to English if you please.

* * *

'Mithrandir!' Lairiel called, raising her hand to hail the wizard who, despite a tattered cloak, appeared largely unscathed.

'Careful, my lady,' he said sharply, as she fell slightly against his weight. 'You are wounded –'

'I am alright,' she said quickly. 'The others, are they accounted for?'

The anxiety in Gandalf's grey eyes told her the truth she had been dreading.

'Who?' she asked heavily, unsure as to whether she wanted to know the answer.

'Fíli, Kíli and Bombur are still missing,' said Gandalf tightly. 'We have sent out search parties but we have had little luck so far. Bilbo has only just been found, thank Heavens.'

'Kíli is dead,' Lairiel told him, the image of the young dwarf's last moments blazing in her heart. 'I saw it, I saw him fall –' And before she knew it, speech was squeezed from her throat. Cold, ruthless grief weighed down upon her like the most insufferable burden; she felt like she wanted to lie right down there on the grass and sleep for ever.

'Where did it happen?' asked Gandalf swiftly.

'His body lies over the Front Gate,' she said, and she hung her head. 'There was nothing I could do, I could only watch him fall and give a blessing to such a short life –'

'Do not speak such things just yet,' Gandalf said gently, touching her arm though the shock of this news was clear in his wizened old face.

'What of the survivors?' she persisted. 'I have to know, Mithrandir, are they faring well?'

'There are heavy wounds.' But Gandalf was evidently reluctant to say any more.

'What is it?' Lairiel asked, staring into his face. 'Tell me!'

Gandalf pressed his eyes closed for a moment, and when they were opened their piercing blue was swimming with the deepest sadness.

'Thorin's may claim his life,' he said softly.

'Where is he?' she asked without hesitation, her voice direct and sharp. '_Massë_, Mithrandir?'

Her sudden forcefulness unnerved the wizard and he looked at her for a moment before pointing at the tent. Without another word, Lairiel turned and strode across the cold grass, limping slightly and yet impervious to physical pain, unaware of those who attempted to speak to her, and pulled open the canvas door.

The tent was large and full of light, warm and bustling with movement; but none of these factors registered within Lairiel's mind. All she saw was Thorin, lying quietly at the back of the tent on a thin bed, naked from the waist up and bandaged heavily. His blackened, blood-stained armour and clothing lay in a pile beside him.

'My lady?' inquired a nurse hesitantly, but Lairiel shook her head.

Her footfalls were light and silent upon the floor as she moved to kneel at Thorin's side. She removed her helmet for the first time as she did so, subconsciously remembering her manners in the presence of a king.

Thorin's skin glowed orange in the torchlight yet the Elf could detect the unnatural paleness in his face. His breathing was shallow yet rhythmic, juddering only when his ribs expanded too far and pain shot through to hinder him, and his wounds were deep and many; dressings could hardly stem the flow of blood which seeped out in little red streams that trailed across his waist and onto the bed. His eyes were closed and it struck Lairiel suddenly that she had never seen him appear so peaceful before, and also so vulnerable. Her warm hand covered his fearfully cold one that lay at his side, and when she looked up again, she received a shock to see his familiar blue eyes looking at her. Their gaze met in a moment where Lairiel could not breathe for grief. Though conscious, his blue eyes retained their tranquil clarity as they moved between Lairiel's two grey ones. He appeared slightly confused at the way Lairiel smiled as he had never seen her smile before: full of the lightest, most pure and blinding joy he had ever seen. It was as though, for just that moment, there had never been a single care of grief in the world. It was as though her face mirrored the first rays of sunlight ever to shine upon the dark lands at the birth of Middle-Earth.

But as she smiled, tears fell freely down her cheeks, and slowly her silent laughter dissolved into sobs.

'Lairiel,' Thorin murmured, as her head fell forward onto his shoulder. 'Lairiel, do not be afraid.'

His big hand gently stroked the back of her hair as she wept onto his skin, her fingers gripping his in a desperate attempt to keep his mind here, present, conscious, with her.

'But I am afraid,' she whispered, looking up at him with shining eyes. 'I am afraid you will leave me here alone.'

'You will never be alone,' he told her. His hand cupped against her cheek and his calloused thumb wiped the tear-tracks from her face. 'Do not lament my departing; I am going to a realm to sit alongside my forebears.'

But Lairiel was shaking her head.

'Do not say such things,' she begged. 'You cannot give up, you must keep fighting!'

'No. I am tired of fighting.' And he sounded very tired indeed. 'What would you have me do? Sit in the moonlight for you to dress my wounds?'

'I would want nothing more,' she breathed, biting her lip against the wail of grief threatening to escape her.

'It wasn't a dream,' Thorin murmured, closing his eyes again. 'The words you spoke have been running through my mind. I am glad it was not just a dream.'

'Every word I spoke was the truth.'

'As were mine.'

'So why do you wish to leave me here?' Lairiel felt herself becoming angry at him for embracing death when he should be resisting it to stay here and be with her.

'I do not wish to leave you, but I have little choice in the matter. I am afraid fate is making that choice for me.'

His voice was growing terribly weak. His breathing was becoming slower and deeper; even his face seemed to visibly pale under her gaze.

'And I am an old dwarf,' he muttered, and a small smile turned up the corner of his lips. 'You are graced with youth and a long life ahead of you.'

'But I wanted to spend it with you,' she told him softly, her shoulders shuddering slightly as she fought the grief away.

Thorin's hand fell from her face onto his chest and Lairiel's fingers clasped it without hesitation.

'Though I go to a better world, I shall very much miss the touch of your Elf hands, my lady,' he said, with another little smile. 'It has become so familiar to me.'

'Do not speak any more, _nîn meleth_.' She softly stroked his beard with the back of her hand. 'Do not burden yourself with earthly trials.'

'Will you do something for me?'

'Anything you wish.'

'Grace my lips with yours to be their final act, and then, would you be so kind as to sing for me?'

'Of course, if it would please you.'

Lairiel wiped her face of tears before leaning over Thorin's fading one. Life was just clinging to his brow, to the blood beneath his skin, but it shone through as his eyes opened just enough to see the maiden's fair face one last time. Her hair fell like water upon his neck and shoulders as she pressed her lips to his, gently and yet tenderly, and Thorin was just able to summon enough energy to kiss her back. As she knelt back down, his eyes found her again and she laughed wetly.

'I am still here,' she promised, holding onto his hand again.

But he did not respond. He only closed his eyes again and waited for his second request to be fulfilled. Lairiel recalled a song from her memory, one she knew her mother to sing to her father when she was a small child. As she began to sing the familiar tune, the happenings of the tent fell silent; indeed, all those within the vicinity fell silent to inquire with their ears as to the origin of such a sweet and sad sound.

_Nîn bain_  
_I Ithil ned nîn fuin_  
_I tinu ned nîn hen_  
_Nîn maethor_  
_I caun ned nîn dîn_  
_I athrad ned nîn men_  
_Nîn meleth._

To Thorin, her clear voice sounded like the light calling to him, pulling him away despite how strongly he desired to remain with his hand under the maiden's who knelt at his bedside; but by the time her song had ended, the king had long departed and she finished her lovesong to ears that no longer heard her, or, indeed, heard anything at all.


End file.
